Reviews by ryzgee

I recently gave this band about half of the "Discog in a Day" treatment whilst on my travels, with practically zero prior knowledge of them. Super Furry Animals didn't really land for me at that point, needing a hell of a lot more time and some less chaotic listening conditions to properly digest, however I probably would've had this album down as the most immediately accessible of those that I'd given a go (Fuzzy Logic through to Phantom Power).

Revisiting this one, with a fresh pair of ears, has done it the world of good. It's absolutely beaming with warm, gorgeous textures, does whatever the hell it wants and has plenty to unpack with repeat listens. I'd be highly inclined to come back to this.

I bought this CD on a whim during a recent charity shop hunt, so 3 Feet High is very much a new "previously heard" for me. I generally struggle a lot with hip hop - the lyrical themes often don't feel relatable to me, and the lack of sonic variety and dynamism across lengthy albums can very quickly become tiresome for me. My personal exceptions tend to occupy the more experimental or industrial spheres of the genre - Billy Woods, Clipping., Dälek, Danny Brown, Death Grips, DJ Shadow, Injury Reserve, JPEGMAFIA, MF Doom et al. I am also partial to some earlier "boom bap" in intermittent, infrequent doses.

This album, whilst of a different era and template to the aforementioned artists, takes my interest in that it similarly provides for an unorthodox experience. Its playful nature, combined with its psychedelic tendencies, the strong production for its time, the conscious themes explored and its adept utilisation of sampling, puts it in a league above the fairly limited pool of comparison points that I can draw upon.

Does this sound attributable to its era? Yes, very much so, but I can align with the argument that 3 Feet High forms essential listening within the genre. Is it something that I'd come back to with any sense of regularity, however? Perhaps not, I only tend to put on a hip hop album once a month or so, but this would definitely fit within that rotation.

This began grating on me from the word go. Other than country, this type of 60's twaddle is second in my personal pecking order of music which I'd be demanding financial compensation to ever be subjected to.

Needless to say, I passed up the opportunity to continue listening at around the halfway point. Life is too fucking short. Plus, after conducting some brief research, I learned of the disturbing lore associated with the members of this band, which makes the album cover all the more uncomfortable to look at.

One that suffered from being in the wrong environs at the time of my original review - a subsequent revisit, after almost exactly 3 months to the letter, has unlocked its majesty to me. A specific headspace is needed to appreciate this to its fullest extent, but what a stunner of a record. Less of the typical Cave-drawling on this one and a greater emphasis on tender beauty.

Is Björk one of the weirdest and most experimental artists to ever occupy the mainstream? Yes, and I love her all the more for it.

Her "second" debut is a slightly peculiar inclusion in the 1001, however, especially in favour of POST or Homogenic, which I would argue are the superior albums, and have aged a lot better than this one. Nonetheless, this album did provide a very measurable impact on release, launching Björk into the public eye, and that is likely what has resulted in its inclusion here.

Debut has an otherworldly and alien, although somewhat dated feel to it, with the opening track "Human Behaviour" nailing that detached vibe both sonically and lyrically. "Venus as a Boy" would be my other highlight for its ethereal, almost trip-hop like qualities.

From there, it's definitely arguable that the first half of the album contains its more interesting numbers, with the latter half settling into some relatively conventional house music of the time. I wouldn't quite describe this album as "testing the waters", but a greater ambition and consistency would be realised on the following POST.

Still, a very enjoyable time revisiting this.

A gaping hole which I've recently filled in my record collection, as I've ushered in attempts to diversify the genres that I listen to at home, beyond primarily metal. Electronic music has been an area of heightened focus for me as of late, with this album from Jean-Michel Jarre widely considered to be an important piece of the puzzle towards the future development of ambient, electronica, sound collage, space rock, synth pop and new wave music.

Essentially, imagine the synthesizer work that you would hear floating throughout a 70s prog rock album becoming the main emphasis of the music, as opposed to an additional layer of depth supporting the virtuosic guitar playing of the genre, which is entirely absent here. Dreamy and existential, yet accessible through a strong grasp on melodicism throughout, the album has reportedly been used for music therapy and to support mothers throughout the natal process in the years following its release. It has a transportive, instinctual level of heft to it, which is difficult to replicate with such sparse resources as those contained here.

That this was Jarre's first studio release proper is most impressive. It was assembled in a makeshift home studio with large parts of the album being written on a barely functioning mellotron, and it would initially struggle to see release through its rejection by several prominent record labels of the time. However, its legacy today provides for a success story in that whilst you may not be aware of Jarre directly, you will absolutely be aware of artists who have sought after his template.

I gave this a spin last night as a pertinent tribute to our newly departed musical legend. I feel that there's little else to say about the quality and enduring influence of this album that others haven't, or won't, come to mention in their reviews.

This is one of those albums that I perhaps only listen to a couple of times a year, much like with the other "golden run" Sabbath albums, however its impact remains unabating whenever I decide to drop the needle onto this one.

My journey into Black Sabbath came reasonably late, after my love for all things heavy metal had already developed over a number of years before I finally gave their catalogue the time it deserved, but that did nothing to lessen how vital their music felt to me despite my pre-exposure to more extreme subgenres. Absolutely essential.

RIP Ozzy 🤘🖤

This is a marked improvement over Henry's Dream. On the whole, it just felt much more sonically engaging to me, and actually had some compelling energy contained within it. Even the more reserved tracks didn't feel quite as plodding or morose, and Cave isn't doing so much of his signature wailing either.

However, at 82 minutes in length, it's a thumbs in the middle for me as far as its replayability stakes are concerned. I wouldn't be averse, but equally I'm not chomping at the bit to hear more.

I often see/hear Queen being spoken of as a "singles band", and even described as "overrated" in some corners of the internet. Whilst I tend to agree with the former statement to a certain extent, the high points that they've put their name to are ridiculously good.

Whilst A Night At the Opera is the more grandiose, no-holds-barred defining statement in Queen's canon, Sheer Heart Attack is a more measured, yet broadly fun time.

Are there a few lesser tracks on the album? Of course - I don't think there's much worth fussing about from "Stone Cold Crazy" onwards, which sets an incredibly high bar to surpass, but the highlights across the first half are truly delicious, namely "Brighton Rock", "Killer Queen", "Flick of the Wrist" and "Now I'm Here".

These are a band which I have just never "got" at all. The drawling, theatrical style embodied by Nick Cave is just not for me, and although this is a more palatable, sanded down version of such stylings, a fresh listen hasn't really done it any favours. I remain impressed by Nick Cave's ability to craft out intriguing lyrical narratives, but I could do without the music.

A peculiar case, this one, as the only Talk Talk album to feature in the 1001. I'd certainly consider Spirit of Eden and Laughing Stock to be the superior and more realised efforts within their canon, although substantially less accessible. This album, however, does remain a hugely important piece of the puzzle, as a bridge between the band's self-derided synth pop beginnings to the experimental, proto-post rock direction of later albums.

It more than deserves a place in the 1001, although it begs the question as to why either of the aforementioned two didn't make the grade, for their continued influence far beyond their original release schedules.

The Colour of Spring, notably, largely does away with synthesizers, going for a much more organic sound which carves out its own space to an exponentially greater extent, and which exudes a much more staunch level of ambition and integrity. Frontman Mark Hollis, as far as I'm concerned, was a musical genius, with the variety and unpredictability apparent on this album (and much more so subsequent releases) accredited to the formation of post rock. His voice is truly captivating and magnificent, however the music speaks just as much throughout the pockets of sparseness it drifts into as it does during its more dense passages.

Dark, brooding, hugely resonant atmospheres, disguised by optimistic keys and chords, are in ample supply here, with the incorporation of tambourine and the variophone on a track such as "April 5th" adding chilling layers of depth.

This is one of those albums you could talk about all day. Excellent, nigh-on-perfect stuff, though again I'm perplexed as to why this is the only Talk Talk album to feature in the book.

A very good album.

I'm m not in the slightest bit familiar with Joni Mitchell, however this album has got me very keen to explore further.

Hejira in some ways acts as a fine juxtaposition to yesterday's listening via The Associates - this is one where the low-key sonic approach, on the surface of it, has provided a welcome change of pace. Whilst there aren't walls of sound to unpack here, what I did find impressive and most engaging about Hejira is the variety / complexity to the crooning melodies and instrumental patterns here, providing this album with a level of depth which isn't immediately apparent at first glance.

There are undoubtedly jazzy qualities underlining this album, which I suppose you would broadly consider a "soft rock" or singer-songwriter effort. After wrapping up my listening, I noticed that a certain Jaco Pastorius features on the album as a bassist, who I'm also unfamiliar with but am aware is held in very high regard.

Joni Mitchell's voice is wonderful, and unusually for a first listen on my part, I also caught onto a level of poetic, abstract beauty in the lyricism throughout.

This is definitely high up on my list to revisit.

Well, this is quite something, for better or for worse. I'm personally gunning for the "better" side of the equation.

Imagine the likes of The Cure or Echo and the Bunnymen taking acid and deciding to throw the entire kitchen sink at it, with the majority of it sticking and the remainder at least posing thoughtful questions.

This is a disorientating, suffocating listen at over 70 minutes in length, very intermittently affording some breathing respite when it dials things back a bit. However, this generally seeks to leave no crevice untouched, crafting panic-inducing walls of artsy, experimental new wave / post punk mayhem.

Lush yet haunting in terms of its sound, the obvious touch points for the vocals would be Robert Smith, David Bowie and Bryan Ferry in that they have an operatic, sometimes over the top quality to them, draped in vulnerability. The sound and production quality is very of its time, however with enough dynamism in the latter to allow individual elements to come to the fore when the songs demand as such. The second half of the album generally felt a lot more optimistic in scope than the first, disregarding the instrumental bop of an opener in "Arrogance Gave Him Up" which offers no indication as to what follows.

This absolutely demands more than just a single listen, and I will definitely be going back to try and unpack this to a greater extent. I feel like this could grow into something that I would hold in exceptionally high regard. For now though, this absolutely something you should hear before you die, even if just to satisfy a curious itch.

Going in, I was expecting this to be an entirely new one on me, as I didn't so much as recognise the band name or artwork. However, the opening track "Miss Judy's Farm" rang some bells in my brain due to being played at home over the years, and from there on in I had a fun time with this boogie rocker.

A welcome and endearing injection of fun and positivity, I think this suffers ever so slightly when it aims for that "moving ballad" approach on a track such as "Debris". However, the keyboard work from Ian McLagan is unrelentingly radiant throughout the album, and whilst this isn't mind-bending stuff, I feel that this album is an example of making modesty and looseness count. Arse shaking riffage, coupled with Rod Stewart's raspy, charismatic vocal offering, gives the album a real hazy 1970s whisky bar quality to it.

This is alright, though I can't see it being something I'd be itching to come straight back to.

Accentuated by some playful little bass lines and some uplifting jangling leads, there is also a sense of melancholy hanging over it via the themes conveyed throughout.

However, much like with a couple of other albums I've listened to so far, this is perhaps a tad rudimentary to leave a significant impression on me. Possibly also not helped by a feeling of blues fatigue washing over me.

[upgraded to 4⭐ on a subsequent revisit]

Several tracks here were already familiar to me, however I'm less confident on whether I've actually sat through this album in one piece before, so this was effectively a new listen for me.

An unhinged, constantly volatile and challenging experience, primarily rooted in blues rock however unafraid to dip its toes into garage and psychedelic territories. The end result is as impressive as it is disorientating, and at no point did I tire of this album as you simply can't tell what might be lying in wait for you next. Ultimately, however, it's an album that I'm unlikely to return to regularly.

It's also fair to say that this is a relatively palatable effort two-years removed to Trout Mask Replica, another 1001 feature which I'm looking forward to revisiting and attempting to piece together.

It's fine I guess, but there's just not enough of a USP on offer here for it to come anywhere close to justifying its place in the list.

This is a decent enough blues album which relies heavily on many of the tropes associated with the genre, but it did get my feet tapping on occasion. Equally, however, there is some absolute tripe on here too, primarily in the form of "Rocking Chair" and everything that follows. Apparently, one mumbling, weary acoustic-led dirge of a track wasn't enough of a downer to end proceedings on, so instead we ended up with three of them for our sins.

This album supposedly culminated in John Lee Hooker's peak chart success following a fallow 17-year period throughout his mid-career, but all I can ask is "why?".

I've never been a fan of Red Hot Chili Peppers at all, and an incomplete listen to this has done precious little to alter my opinion. I just find them really grating in both a musical and vocal sense, and Anthony Kiedis being a bit of a knob is well-documented by now, so nope, onto this week's new releases I go. Sorry, not sorry.

As soon as you hear the noodling, transcendent bass work on the opening track "Roundabout", you know you're in for a treat, and the quality never dips from therein for me.

Quite rightly regarded as a classic, essential prog rock album, Yes would go one better on the following Close to the Edge for my money, but that's not to discredit how vital an album this is.

Fragile is absolutely beaming with joy, with each member effortlessly gliding away on their respective instruments and relentlessly leaving you on your toes as to what might follow, courtesy of the freakishly executed erratic rhythms and mind-bending song structures throughout. I couldn't omit the brilliance of the flamenco guitar on "Mood for a Day" either, though, tugging at the heartstrings before the album concludes with an absolute whopper in "Heart of the Sunrise".

I don't have this on vinyl, and that seriously needs to change.